


A Welded Fried Egg Sandwich

by jenstraflintlocked



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 18:38:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17371226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenstraflintlocked/pseuds/jenstraflintlocked
Summary: I saw a post about like someone welding together a sandwich and someone being like "the thirteenth doctor" and then this happened so





	A Welded Fried Egg Sandwich

Graham was exhausted from dealing with the funeral directors. There were times when the process of Grace’s death seemed endless. Trying to find a date that everyone could make, ensuring everyone was told, trying to come up with a decent enough cover story for what had happened, death certificates, notifying people and the tax office and it went on. He hadn’t liked having to come up with a story, pretending that Grace’s death had been some kind of accident, some mystery that couldn’t be solved, rather than the heroic death that it was. But Grace wouldn’t’ve seen herself as a hero. Just someone doing what needed to be done. She’d had the same attitude towards nursing. And the truth was too bizarre to tell.

He kept thinking about the security guard as well, and his family. Tim Shaw had ruined a lot of lives. If he ever met that blue teeth-faced monster, Graham promised himself it would not go well for the alien.

And then there were times, like today, when there was nothing to do but wait. He sat at the small wooden table, staring at his hands, not really thinking of anything because if he thought of anything it would invariably lead back to thinking about Grace. He’d thought perhaps arranging everything would make it more real, but there seemed no link back to the vibrant woman he’d shared the past few years with. Only tasks to be completed, forms to be filled out, decisions to be made. Ryan had helped him a lot, Yaz called round most days after work and the Doctor was always there. Permanently camped out on their couch in silence. He felt a kinship with her these days. It seemed she was waiting too, although what for, he didn’t ask. She made him tea. That was nice. A small task, a small comfort that he didn’t have to think about. She tinkered with things, the toaster now had five different dials and antennae for example, and he hadn’t dared use the ice dispenser on the freezer. Particularly as it hadn’t had one before.

As he sat staring at his hands, rubbing them over one another in one smooth continuous action, the faint smell of frying came to his nose. He sniffed and then cautiously made his way to the kitchen. The Doctor was there, shirt sleeves rolled up, leather gauntlets on and welding helmet visor down, peering at two eggs sizzling in the frying pan.

“Oil is vicious.” She said, not looking up.

“It can spit if you’re not...” Graham wandered to stand next to her.

“Careful Graham!” She pushed him away from the frying pan.

“Making a fry up?”

“Finally getting round to that fried egg sandwich. I’m making you one.”

“No bacon?” Graham frowned.

“Not craving bacon. Nope! This is pure eggy sandwich goodness.”

Graham glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s the rest then?”

“Of what?”

“The sandwich.”

The welding visor came up. “Oops.”

Graham shook his head. There was a flicker of amusement, which felt like a beam in his current mind set and he was half smiling as he got the plates and buttered the bread and put the kettle on. He had to avoid the Doctor more than once when she jumped backwards, waving the spatula at the frying pan as if she were about to sword fight, hissing in reply to the oil.

Sometimes he thought about what would’ve happened if Grace had followed him, if they had left. It would be Grace in the kitchen still, waving the spatula, him putting the kettle on for them. But such scenarios always ended in thinking about how Karl would’ve been taken, how the Doctor and Yaz might’ve failed, or worse, died in the attempt. And then he was proud, about how they’d helped. Grace was that kind of person and he promised himself he’d try harder to be that kind of person too. Who’d throw themselves into any situation with the best that they had to offer and try and help.

The Doctor splatted the eggs onto the waiting bread, covered them with the second slice and then brought out a small blow torch. Graham stood there, tea bags still on a spoon, dripping tea unheeded onto the floor as he watched her toast the bread with it and then seal the two slices together.

“Perfect!” The Doctor raised her visor once more, picked up her sandwich in her gauntleted hands and bit into it before Graham could stop her. “AHHH. Hot hot hot hot!” she danced round the kitchen, wafting furiously at her mouth.

And this was the person who’d saved them from an alien, Graham thought as he finally deposited the tea bags into the bin. The same person who had now shoved her head into the ice dispenser, opened her mouth and pulled the lever.

Still, he admitted as he munched, she could make a decent sarnie, he’d give her that.


End file.
